


Sick Day

by extortionist



Category: American Idiot (Album), American Idiot - All Media Types, American Idiot - Green Day/Armstrong
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 06:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20305201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extortionist/pseuds/extortionist
Summary: Tunny plays mother hen.





	Sick Day

Tunny didn’t have siblings and he couldn’t imagine having children of his own; he was more concerned with actually keeping a girlfriend for more than half a year than getting married and planning a family. The thought was beyond what he could ever begin to worry about. He didn’t have the money, the shelter, or the stability to be able to handle children. They were messy and complicated and drastically life-changing in a way he could barely understand at his age. Despite his utter inability to comprehend taking care of children, he had found himself in charge of two children at seventeen, desperately trying to keep his precious baby boys alive and well. 

“Will, if you cough on me one more time, I am going to puke in your face.”

“Shut up, Jesus,” Tunny said, rolling his eyes and turning to face Will and Johnny. “I’m risking my life to babysit your dumb asses. If you aren’t gonna get killed by the flu you’re gonna kill each other.”

“Will started it,” Johnny said. 

“Johnny doesn’t understand coughing is involuntary,” Will said.

“You don’t gotta cough in my fuckin’ face,” Johnny said. 

“Yeah, I do,” Will said.

“Shut the fuck up, weirdos.” Tunny pried his eyes away from the stone brick castle they were watching him build on their server to point accusingly at the two boys lying together on the couch. “It’s both of your faults. If you understood that you don’t have to act like conjoined twins every second of every day maybe you wouldn’t be coughing on each other.” 

“I have to cuddle Johnny,” Will said. “His fat ass is my only life source.”

“Why are you gay?” Johnny asked. 

“Traps aren’t gay,” Will replied.

“Shut the fuck up,” Tunny said again. “This is why neither of you have girlfriends.”

“Heather totally wants to bang Will. God only knows why. Probably the big nice Jewish boy energy.”

“Aw, you think I’m nice.”

“I think I’m gonna puke again.” 

Johnny lurched to his feet and speedwalked to the bathroom. It hadn’t been a joke–Tunny cringed as he heard Johnny retching the moment after he slammed the door shut. “If I catch this bug from you guys, you’re morally and legally obligated to spend your time and energy taking care of me like this,” he told Will.

“Hey,” Will said, “you’re doing the same shit you would be if we weren’t sick.”

It wasn’t untrue. Minecraft and chill with the boys was not an infrequent occurrence. “Still,” Tunny said, “this shit normally doesn’t involve me having to be exposed to your puke and germs and shit–hey! You can’t smoke weed right now!”

“One rip,” Will pleaded, holding his bong out of Tunny’s reach. “It’s weed, it’s not gonna hurt me.”

“Not when you’re throwing up, dumbass,” Tunny said, standing over Will and taking the bong away from him. “It’ll make you sicker. It makes Johnny throw up half the time anyway.”

“That’s _Johnny_,” Will argued. “Weed’s never made me sick. I can take it way better than him. You’re just too pro-beer and anti-weed to be able to make that kind of judgement.”

“When you quit throwing up, I’ll give you the bong back,” Tunny told him. He stepped over Will’s legs and tapped his fist against the door of the bathroom. “Hey, Jesus,” he said. “You alright?” 

The gagging noises had stopped for a moment and the only thing Tunny heard after he knocked was a single tired grunt. Tunny opened the door and Johnny was kneeling over the toilet with his head propped up by his arm. He sat down beside him and brushed the greasy hair away from his face. He looked miserable. “C’mon, Johnny,” Tunny said. “You look like you got hit by a truck. It’s just the flu; it’ll be over in a couple days at the most.”

“I wish I had a mom that gave a fuck,” Johnny said.

Tunny slowly rubbed Johnny’s back as he struggled to come up with something vaguely comforting to say. It was impossible, firstly because Johnny was impossible to console whenever he was having any kind of negative emotion and secondly because Tunny was useless at coming up with the right words for any situation. “You do, dumbass. I’m your mom.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, which was about the same as a smile in Tunny’s eyes–it was at least an actual acknowledgement that Johnny was listening and not lost a thousand lightyears back in his head. 

“You wanna go pet Robot?” 

“Yeah.”

Johnny and Tunny made it back to the couch with Johnny holding Will’s parents’ fluffy white-and-tabby cat that promptly absconded the second it saw Will. 

“That cat hates me,” Will said after coughing the smoke out of his lungs. Tunny took the bong out of his hands again with a sigh. 

“It knows you’re a furry,” Johnny said.

“I’m not a furry. This is slander.”

Tunny sat back down in front of the couch and continued to work on his castle as the boys settled back down next to each other behind him, still quietly bickering. He hadn’t quite signed up to have children but if he had to Will and Johnny weren’t the worst babies to adopt. At least they didn’t shit themselves unless it was during the very rare occasions tequila was involved. Knowing they were somewhat safe and somewhat happy and not about to die of their own idiocy was enough to make Tunny content. When the boys could settle down and resist getting into slap-fights while they semi-peacefully watched Tunny play video games, he almost didn’t mind playing mom.


End file.
